The Coming Storm
by Slytherin Princess Nysa
Summary: Robb Stark sends a message to his brother but when the Lannister's buy off the messenger, House Stark is in even more danger, without even realizing it. However a conscience gets in the way of Cersei's plan. Loyalties are tested, and they'll soon find out that honor has no place in the Game. Rated M for strong language, violence, and sexual themes. Robb/OC & Jon/Dany (Temp. Hiatus)
1. A Wolf's Call

_The Coming Storm_

By Slytherin Princess

* * *

 **Chapter One**

* * *

 **Winterfell**

 **~Robb Stark~**

The dining hall was filled to the brink with Lords from noble Houses in the North. Robb, Catelyn and his younger brothers sat at the head table. There was a building tremor in the room. Robb waited for someone to read the message from King's Landing, listened to his heart pounding and fingers drumming anxiously on his knees.

"My Lords! Please. Robb?" The redheaded Stark was roused from his thoughts by his mother, her gentle but firm grip on his arm brought him to the present. A dozen Lords and knights waited for Robb.

"We have received a raven from my sister, Sansa." He began. Their attention was drawn to his morose face and withdrawn posture. "My father and sisters have been arrested. They are held in the Red Keep pending their trials."

It had been a week since ravens delivered the message of his father's supposed treason and the capture of his sisters by the Lannisters. Robb didn't believe it. His father was a just and honorable man. Ned would never plot to overtake the Seven Kingdoms.

The Stark family had always resided in Winterfell, it had been enough, once they were all happy here. Now, however, it seemed as though it was the end of their joyful days. Sansa, Arya and his father were held under the threat of death by the Crown.

Bran was still unable to move his legs and his mother was growing distant and less hopeful for their future. His younger brother, Jon, had left for Castle Black to become a brother of the Night's Watch like their uncle Benjen.

Robb and Jon had been as close as possible in their positions. Catelyn had made it decisively clear that they were only _half_ brothers and continued to enforce it throughout their childhoods. During feasts Jon would sit in the back of the hall while Robb sat at the head of the table with the rest of the Stark House. Robb knew it was unfair but he loved his mother and couldn't imagine the betrayal she must feel every time she laid eyes on Jon.

Now his eyes skimmed the shocked expressions of his bannermen. Unconsciously his eyes landed on the spot where Jon would usually sit. It was now occupied by a hardy Lord and the elder Stark wondered if he would ever see the familiar black curls of his brother again. But their silence lasted but a moment, then it was a deafening outrage.

Men called out for justice, for revenge, for lion blood. Ned had once said ' _there must always be a Stark in Winterfell_ '. Robb didn't understand what he had meant at the time. Where else would they go, who else would take care of the North?

Lord Wyman Manderly was a plump man with long, colorless hair and beard. His voice was deep and Robb could see by the calluses on his hands that he was a practiced swordsman. "Renly Baratheon is nothing to me, neither is Stannis." Robb's head snapped back to him. "Why should they rule over me and mine from some flowery seats in the South? Why shouldn't we rule ourselves again? It was the dragons we bowed to, and now the dragons are dead!" He drew his sword from his side. The point of the blade stared down at Robb as he rose from his seat. "There sits the only King, I mean to bend my knee to. The King of the North!"

The Lord of Deepwood Motte, Robett Glover rose to his feet from across the hall. "I'll have peace on those terms. They can keep their Red Castle and their Iron Chair too."

One by one each man had knelt to the stone floor. "The King of the North."

Offering up their swords and lives, proclaiming him King. The man they wanted to lead them against the Lannister armies, to free Ned Stark and bring independence to them all.

Robb didn't know if he could do it. He didn't know how he could do this without his father or brother by his side. He had Bran and Rickon but they were still children. Robb couldn't bring himself to tell them about the horrors he saw in his head when he thought of their family in the dungeons of King's Landing.

* * *

Robb sat alone after the Lords had left to prepare for the coming war. He hadn't moved out of his chair since the weight of the North was placed on his shoulders with the title of King. A servant rushed to his side and bowing his head deeply, placed the inkwell by his hand.

Light flickered over the parchment paper and around the empty hall. It was close to midnight, the moon was high and full in the winter sky. Snow falling gently against the windows and the howl of the wind sounded too loud in Robb's ears.

He was so uncertain as a brother and a son. Robb didn't know if he could be the King his people deserved. But it was time for the Starks to come out of the shadow of Lannisters and Baratheons. It was time for the North to break free of the wants and needs of Southern Kings.

It was time for the North to rise.

With his mind finally made up, Robb lowered the quill and inhaling wrote out the words plaguing him. He prayed to the Seven that he would find his courage before the stench of battle reached further inside the walls of Winterfell.

* * *

The hot wax was drying quickly as Robb pressed the direwolf seal into the folded paper. He held the letter carefully in his hands, studying the face of his House sigil. The Young Wolf considered burning it for the sake of his mother but then he pictured the innocent faces of his sisters. Sansa's bright ginger hair and soft framed face. Arya's bold willingness to shoot a bow and learn to hold a sword.

Before he could talk himself into another idea he waved Olyvar to his table from the door. The young man was a year or two his junior, sandy blonde hair falling neatly over his eyes. "Deliver this to Castle Black as quickly as your horse will carry you. Ensure that the only ones who know of this letter's existence are my brother and his Commander."

Robb watched his squire fidget his fingers over the edge before nodding down at his seated King. "Yes, Your Grace."

* * *

 **Three Weeks Later**

No word had come from either Olyvar or Castle Black. Robb was beginning to worry that something might have happened to Olyvar along the way to The Wall or Jon had already taken the oath and chosen to forsaken his family for the honor of serving The Watch.

"Walder Frey is considering an alliance with House Lannister." Supplied Lord Gloves.

Roose Bolton croaked from his seat in the hall. "We need the Twins to keep control over the North!" His fist slammed into the table, rocking the goblets of wine.

"I will ride out with a thousand men to meet with Lord Frey." Robb saw Catelyn's eyes widen and part her mouth to object, but he interjected before she could. "I depart in two days with the intention of securing an alliance of our own."

When Robb exited the room he could feel his mother's hard gaze at the back of his head. He waited patiently for her to speak her mind while he walked quickly to his room. The door creaked as it swung open. "Say what you will, Mother."

"I do not think it wise. You are the new King, you are the first King in the North in hundreds of years. You cannot ride off into a possible ambush." Worry lines were spreading along her face and Robb stopped removing his armor.

"I've called for help." He turned his mother by her arms. "I know the Houses will support me and protect Winterfell until I return. It will be a short journey, I promise."

"It's two to three weeks one way! It will take close to two months until you are back in Winterfell. At least let me come with you."

"No, Mother, please. You must stay here with my brothers and continue being the Lady of Winterfell until father returns." He watched the struggle behind her light eyes. He could see her trust in him strengthen. Catelyn held his face in her hands, her eyes softening while she watched her first born.

"I love you, my sweet boy. Stay safe and come back to me safely."

He hugged her back tightly, "I love you, too, Mother."

"I know our family will be back together soon, I have faith that you can lead our army to victory. I believe that your father has raised you to be the just ruler that the North deserves." Catelyn stroked her hand through his curly auburn hair and Robb could see the pride in her eyes.

"I hope to earn the title of King." he muttered quietly as he stepped away from her.

"You will," she said with the determination that only a mother had towards her child. "When your father returns, he will be as proud of you as I am. You will be a great influence for your brothers and they will learn to be as strong as you."

Robb nodded to her and looked out towards the grey sky peeking through the window. Catelyn smiled at him and stepped out of the room with grace and the King listened to her go, not looking at her retreating back.

"I will see them again." He reassured himself quietly.

* * *

Robb rode out the next morning before his mother had left the breakfast table.

It was dawn, the first rays of light broke through the grey clouds above Winterfell. Robb watched the sky with concern of rain. He listened to the beat of hooves on the mulch below and closing his eyes he could feel the movement of his horse. The scent of sweat spread around him.

It would take weeks to ride to the Twins, including the times when they would have to rest and make camp.

Robb hoped that when he returned his brothers would all be waiting for him to come home. He prayed that he would be able to bring home his sisters and father home to his mother and brothers. He would bring his family back together and they would make the Lannisters pay for everything they put them through.

Robb swore to himself that no matter what it took he would be the King in the North, the man who unites them until Winter finally comes.

* * *

 **Cross Roads Inn**

 **~Lyra Storm~**

She supposed there were worse places to be. The musk of the tavern made her head spin lazily, the mismatched boards of the walls were holding up severed animal heads. A Lady of status and House would be disgusted by the mere sight, but Lyra was no Lady. She sat at the bar with a mug of ale in her hand.

The black haired girl watched as the rowdy men around her pawed at the serving girls, drunk off their asses. Lyra rolled her eyes when a brawn arm dropped over her shoulders and pushed it away forcefully. The man chuckled and stumbled to another woman who was more welcoming to his advances. Lyra sipped her drink, waiting for the slight buzz in her limbs. She looked at the moving bodies and flickering light. It almost looked beautiful, when she didn't consider the stench of sweat and spilt ale.

She would rest here for the night and then ride towards Seagard. She had booked a voyage on a ship out of Westeros. The ship would be leaving in two weeks and she would be heading towards Essos. Lyra had been travelling from port to seatown for the past year, trying to find a ship that was willing to take her across the great ocean. Ser Davos had charged her double the money with half as much time to get to Seagard. It wasn't the fairest of arrangements but Lyra couldn't ask for anything better in her position.

"Jon Snow," Lyra froze with the mug close to her lips. Snow was the name used for bastards in the North. Lyra's ears perked trying to hear more about him. "That fuckin' wolfling on that damned freezin' wall up North." Hadn't she heard something about the Warden of the North having a bastard son?

"How much are they offering you?" Lyra slowly slip into a seat closer to the talking men.

The blonde took a large chug of his drink and slammed his hands against the table. A blush of intoxication on his cheeks. "Pounds of gold! All for this letter!"

He waved about a piece of parchment paper. The brown haired man in front of him reached for it but the blonde snuck it back into the inner pocket of his jacket. "Who's it from?"

"From the boy King in the North." Lyra smiled to herself.

King in the North? Lyra could definitely get behind someone finally standing up to the blonde witch on the Iron Throne. She shook her head, there was no point in admiring him, he would be dead long before Cersei Lannister broke her clutches from that seat. Sooner rather than later by the sound of it. She looked down at the empty cup in her hands and sighed.

She wasn't about to let Cersei win, scrunching up her face as she squared her shoulders and stood. Lyra was stealing that letter and burning it. Signalling the barkeep she waited for the drinks. She would destroy it and leave for Seagard at the break of dawn. This was just a small distraction from her journey.

Grabbing the ready mugs she turned to the men's table with a sickly sweet smile.

 _The things I do for revenge_ , Lyra thought to herself before walking forward.

* * *

Lyra grimaced at the snoring mess she had left at the table. She tucked the crumpled piece of paper into her brown coat. The blond man- Olyvar- had handled his liquor better than she had assumed he would. She was feeling slightly tipsy even, needing to sidestep a few times to avoid falling in the dirty streets. If she wasn't appreciated by the King even in passing she would bludgeon the Young Wolf to death.

The dark haired girl stumbled into the inn and up the rickety stairs. Her room was small and cramped but would do well enough until her horse was rested. Lyra toed off her boots and sat against the headboard of her bed. She fingered the smooth wax seal wondering if she should open it. Fighting with her conscience she ripped the seal and unfolded the paper.

* * *

 _I hope this letter finds you well, Brother. I have told my squire, Olyvar, to make haste in finding you at the Wall. As I write this the news of war would have spread to all ends of the Seven Kingdoms and no doubt to you. I have been named King by the Lords of the North, a title I fear I have not earned but intend to._

 _Mother is barely holding herself together after the death of our father and the continued capture of Sansa and Arya. Our brothers are providing a distraction for her, however, I suspect it will not last long. I need to reunite our family, I believe that even you would bring her comfort._

 _If it pleases your Lord Commander I will send a dozen men to replace you on the Wall. You are my brother and my most trusted ally. This is a time of war. Lives will be lost and I pray to the Seven that it will not be in vain. I believe we can win this war but I cannot do this without you. I need you by my side, Jon._

 _If you do not wish to return, I shall hold no ill will towards you and tell you that you are always welcomed in Winterfell._

 _Robb Stark_

* * *

It wasn't the valuable information Olyvar had been boasting about but as she flipped the page front to back she noticed the thickness of the paper. It wasn't rare for Lord to use tricks to hide messages. She slid the candle holder closer to the parchment. Carefully she flipped the page backwards and watched in satisfaction as the new words bled into view. A Maester must have provided the light activated ink.

There was a crudely drawn map with quickly sketched towns and roads. She mentally compared the refined script of the letter to the messy map, the King had lovely penmanship. Lyra had never been this far North before, but she had heard rumors of the Stark House. Lyra had once met a man of the Riverlands. He had spoken of House Tully in great drunken length and detail. At the time Lyra had been a mere fifteen but it hadn't stopped her from saving him from a brawl. One he had started, nonetheless.

Lyra grimaced when she realized that it would have taken a long time for Olyvar to ride to the Cross Road. Too long a time. If Robb Stark hadn't sent out another rider or raven it was unlikely that Jon would be on his way to his brother.

She had unconsciously began pacing the wooden floors, leaving the dreaded letter on the tattered bedsheets. Why had she gone and gotten involved? Lyra wasn't a politician and she certainly did not serve Lords and Kings.

She reread the letter several times. Lyra found no nefarious purpose in the words the King in the North wrote to his brother. She knew it was difficult for legitimate and bastard children to become close, most would relish in the thought of getting rid of their siblings. Less competition for power and House name, but Robb Stark had written to his brother in the hope of his return.

Lyra groaned loudly before hastily packing and shrugging on her warmest clothes. She hid the message at the bottom of her pack. It was close to first light when Lyra left her room key on the barkeeps table.

There was a sheen of mist in the air. Lyra headed into the stable, "Woah girl."

Pulling on the reins she led the brown steed out into the mud. Mounting the horse she began a steady pace towards the Wall. Lyra snapped the hood over her head, smoothing her braid to hang on her shoulder. It was freezing outside but Lyra knew it would only get colder the further North she rode. Leaning forward she sped up.

She couldn't believe she was taking yet another detour. She wished she could have just let Olyvar continue traveling to King's Landing. Let Cersei Lannister and Robb Stark destroy each other while she sailed away to Essos. Away from the betrayal and lies of Westeros, to a place where she had family. Then maybe she had something in common with her father.

Vengeance was something she couldn't let go of easily. Cersei Lannister owed her and the lion Queen had no idea how much. Or how far Lyra Storm was willing to go to cede her fury.

The road was empty but Lyra kept her ears trained to the forest, listening for any unknown sounds or the hooves of horses. She couldn't let her guard down now that she had a King's letter in her possession.

* * *

 **Castle Black**

 **~Jon Snow~**

It was freezing in the North. The real North, Castle Black. A place of gloom and empty halls. When Uncle Benjen had talked about the Night's Watch, Jon remembered the pride held deep behind his eyes. However when Jon had ridden in through the iced gated with a half dozen other men he was disappointed. Benjen's eyes had darkened with distaste at the sight of the rough looking men. Jon had suppressed his sudden desire to drop his shoulders as to not draw any more attention. These weren't the men he had pictured.

The black haired Snow had thought of honorable men coming from near and far to serve Westeros, what he found was the complete opposite. Thieves, rapist, even a few murderers lined the ranks. Unsurprisingly, each and every one of them knew who the Stark bastard was.

A few of the men were bastards, themselves. Though most of them had been there since they were born. They knew nothing but the darkness of endless night beyond the wall.

Jon heard Ghost pawing gently at the flood before the great direwolf turned in a slow circle and fell happily on the Commander's fur rug. For a moment he had thought of telling his wolf to leave but he enjoyed Ghost's company, it reminded him of Winterfell. It would be a full week before he would take the Oath and officially took the Black. Jon would be lying if he said the thought of returning home hadn't occurred to him.

Jon thought of his family often. Bran and Rickon were young, still only boys, but they had been so alive. Running wildly and climbing recklessly. Sansa and he had never gotten along, she was her mother's daughter after all. Arya was a warrior- born with a needle and thread but meant for a sword. Then there was Robb. Jon's half brother was the closest to him in age and attitude. They bounded over horseback riding, swordsmanship, and the unconditional love they shared for their siblings. When they were alone Jon almost felt as though he was a Stark.

Then they would return to Winterfell, to Catelyn and Sansa's cool glances, and Jon wouldn't feel like much of a Stark. The meals were the worst for Jon. A not subtle reminder that he carried the last name of Snow.

"Jon?" Dropping the broom he turned to the intruder. "The Commander is waiting for you in the dining hall." Samwell Tarly looked down at his boots, an air of melancholy surrounding his rather plump figure.

"I wonder where he will have me clean next." Sam tried to smile but it didn't reach beyond a tilt of his lip. Jon furrowed his brows in thought but left the broom with Sam and headed towards the dining hall anyways.

Once outside he pulled the fur coat tighter around his shoulders. He grew up in the North but even he needed some time to get used to the bone chilling hypothermic freeze. He knocked once on the wooden door and waited patiently for the signal to come inside. Jon wondered what he could have done to upset the Lord Commander.

"Come!" His voice was like gravel. Worn and deep, authoritative.

Jon took a deep breath and as the air burned his lungs he steeled his nerves.

The room was quiet when he entered. Jeor Mormont was leaned over his desk, studying a parchment paper with great interest. Jon cleared his throat to announce his presence. "What're ye' waitin' for? Sit!"

Jon grit his teeth as he sat, waiting. He had hoped that the silence would end shortly but after several minutes nothing had been said. The wolf watched as the older man switched his knowing gaze from the letter to Jon. "Commander, if I could…"

Jeor rubbed his eyes tiredly and sighed. "He's all yours." Jon looked at his Lord Commander confused. "I expect those men."

"And you shall have them, as promised." For the first time Jon noticed the dark clad figure leaning against the corner of the room. A thick hood covered their head and half of the face. Jon stood immediately, his hand gripping the hilt of Long Claw.

"Be overjoyed, yer goin' home." Jon couldn't hide his shock. Home?

* * *

 _To be continued..._

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Game of Thrones, both the show and book series. They belong to GRRM and HBO. Although if either pull another Red Wedding, I will legitimately consider burning their headquarters down. Who's with me?**

 **Or, more likely, I will continue to write stories where Robb is alive and I can pretend bad things don't happen to the Starks.**

 **Follow and review!**


	2. A Crow's Answer

**Chapter 2**

 **~Jon Snow~**

 **Castle Black**

* * *

Jon's head snapped towards his Commander. He couldn't mean that he was being sent back to Winterfell, could he? How would that be possible? Taking the Black was for life. Although technically Jon hadn't made the oath yet, he had come to the castle ready to surrender himself. He had said his goodbyes to his half siblings and father.

Jon opened his mouth a few times but couldn't think of the words to express what he didn't know he felt. Was it relief at returning to Winterfell?

Or perhaps Jon wasn't a brave man at all. He had simply been pretending to be all along but inside he was a coward. A man who had no name, no wealth or power, no House. The Wall would have been his escape, a cold and desolate place where he could just be Watchman- not the Stark bastard. Not the proof of Ned Starks only dishonorable action.

"I do not understand." He muttered as his hand slipped from the sword.

Mormont folded the once pristine note again and held it towards him. Jon distantly heard Ghost whine as Jeor passed him and slammed the door. Leaving Jon alone with the soft spoken woman in the corner. Not for the first time Jon wondered who she was and how she managed to talk the guards into letting her inside Castle Black in the first place. It was a well kept rule that women were not allowed within its walls.

"Open it, will you? You are vexing to watch." Jon glared but didn't reply. He slowly opened it, revealing his brothers practiced Lord's hand- _King_ now, he mentally reminded himself. He read over the words. Once. Twice. He was speechless when he turned it around and found the map on the back. It had been a game they played as children during their lessons. Passing secret messages that only they knew would be there so Catelyn wouldn't notice.

However this wasn't a remark about which young Lady Robb fancied, it was a path. The road Robb would take to a meeting with all of his supporting Lords. His brother was asking for Jon to come home. He didn't know what to do.

"You know that your father and sisters have been captured and charged as traitors?" Her silken voice drifted to him. Jon nodded and watched her slip the hood from her head. Her skin was tanned, something Jon wasn't used to seeing in the North. "You know your brother has declared war as the new King in the North?" Again, he could only nod.

She pursed her full lips and Jon studied her. Thin but muscular arms were crossed over her chest in frustration, the woman's posture was stiff. A variety of weapons hanging from straps on her waist and legs. It was her eyes, however, that caught his attention. They were blue- as vibrant as the wild ocean but kind and a direct contrast to her midnight hair. "You knew your family was in danger, that war had descended on your King and you did nothing?"

A spark of anger lit in Jon's chest. "Who are you then? Robb writes that he sent his squire Olyvar, and yet you deliver his letter?" He challenged.

" _Olyvar_ betrayed your King, he was riding to King's Landing- to Cersei Lannister. I suspect to help plan your brother's assassination." Jon glanced worriedly at the letter peeking from his fist. Robb was his brother, half or not. It was his duty to protect him.

"What would you have me do?" He sharply turned fully to her, a last stand of rebellion. "You wouldn't understand what it is like growing up in a household where you are not considered a part of the family. That you mean nothing. A place where you learn what the word bastard means before you are strong enough to pick up a sword."

She regarded him calmly. "You are right, I do not know what it is like to grow up in a house. Or with a family for that matter." The young woman sat on the edge of the table next to him. "My name is Lyra Storm. A bastard like you. Although it is true, children do not choose where they are born, or to who, but we also do not get to decide the burden left on our shoulders. Believe me there were times when I could barely walk from the weight. Your brother needs you, your sisters and your father need you. You hold his plea in your hands and the desire to help them, so will you?"

The dark woman- Lyra- studied him for a moment before smiling knowingly. She hopped down from the ledge gracefully.

"Where are you going?" He called out when she swung the door open.

"To tell the Commander that we'll be leaving for Winterfell before night," She answered without turning.

Jon looked down at Ghost, torn. "I know." He sighed and flew past him, black cloak billowing behind him. "Let's go, boy."

* * *

 **~Lyra Storm~**

 **Last Hearth**

The moment she had laid her eyes on Jon Snow of Winterfell she had known that he would be leaving Castle Black, and worse, she would be accompanying him. There was indecision and worry in his brown eyes. But there was also an overwhelming amount of love. Lyra knew that she should be leaving him to do whatever he pleased. However, Winterfell was in the same direction as Seagard so it wouldn't hurt her to travel with him. She could certainly use the human socialization.

Lyra had never really had companions before, she had tagged along with a few loners such as herself but never for too long. It wasn't in her nature to bond- with people- animals were a completely different matter. Lyra hushed the tempered mare. Thunder was a spirited horse, the color of Dorne sand. Lyra thought the darker shade stuck out like a sorethumb in the freshly fallen snow. Thunder was bred and raised in the heat of the South, the cold this far up North was making the charger weary. The young woman wondered if that would impact their journey to Seagard and Winterfell. Lyra wondered how Thunder would like Essos, she had heard of the warmth that hung thickly in the air.

Lyra impatiently stared at the empty staircase. He hadn't come back down yet. How long did it take someone to gather up their belongings and walk a flight of steps?

Jon Snow hadn't been what she expected either. He was tall and handsome in a stoic way. She wondered if his face might crack if he smiled. She didn't have anything against the brooding man, but she couldn't help but feel slightly on edge around him. He may be a bastard like herself but he carried Stark blood. A House Lyra wasn't tempted to become acquainted with again.

 _Why should she care anyways? It wasn't her war, why get involved again?_

Just as she began to ponder seriously about leaving without him, Jon and his direwolf ambled towards her. She huffed and rolled her eyes heavens way before mounting her steed. Together they rode through the sea of black clothing and pristine snow. Once they were outside of the castle gates Lyra noticed Jon exhale in relief. She said nothing, only continued to stare ahead, a weight lifting off her shoulders the further Castle Black became.

~o.O.o~

It had two days of barely spoken words and rough grunts as conversation used to pass the time. Lyra was used to travelling in silence but it was becoming uncomfortable with her new shadow. Jon would stare into the endless terrain throughout the pounding ride. The only time they had stopped was when they were becoming too exhausted to continue. He hadn't spoken to her since they left the castle.

"Are you normally this talkative?" She watched his back as he shifted on the saddle.

Jon pulled the reins gently, evening out their horses. "I don't usually have much to say."

She looked at him doubtfully. A slow smile gracing her lips. " _Don't have much to say_ or are not given the opportunity to?" She asked knowingly.

The wolf studied her smooth face. She- Lyra, he reminded himself- had a look in her eyes. It was heavy and spoke volumes of things she had lived through. "Both, I reckon."

"That is quiet unfortunate." She clicked her heels into Thunders sides, moving down the icy path quicker. "You seem like the kind of man who has much on his mind."

"What makes you believe that?" He said curiously.

Lyra tapped a gloved finger against her chin. "You spend so much time thinking, it is hard to believe you wouldn't, Snow."

"Perhaps you should not give me as much credit, Lyra Storm."

"Someone has to put their faith in you, Jon Snow."

~o.O.o~

Lyra had broken a fundamental law of survival in the long days it had taken them to reach Winterfell. She had become attached. Jon Snow was more like her than she would ever care to admit out loud. He wasn't used to being talked to like an equal, something Lyra could relate to immensely. Jon was often shocked by her honesty and Lyra thought it was disappointing how little he had experienced of friendship.

Lyra, herself, had never had a friend before and a small part of her wondered if she could stay a bit longer in Westeros, if only to make sure he was staying safe. Then she would remember what awaited her in Essos, she couldn't afford to spend another year in Westeros. She would treasure the feeling of comfort with her new confidant until she reunited him with his brother. Then she could leave knowing he was safe.

As safe as anyone could be in a war, anyways.

"We are here." Lyra snapped herself out of her thoughts. The castle was made of large grey layered stones. A white banner hung on either side of the open gates, an openmouthed direwolf centered on them. Lyra found it fitting for Jon- his dark hair and white wolf. He was the embodiment of House Stark. As they rode through the market area of Winterfell, Lyra wondered if Robb Stark would look anything like his brother.

"Jon! Mother, look!" Lyra heard a young boys voice somewhere from above. "It's Jon! He is back from the Wall!" The small child jumped excitedly at an older womans side- presumably his mother. The boy had light orange, Tully hair like the woman.

 _She must be Catelyn Stark,_ Lyra thought. A sudden distaste filled her mouth at the sight of the woman. Over their many conversations she had discovered that Jon's lack of confidence came from the negligence Lady Stark showed him as a child. Lyra wondered what kind of a woman would force a child to sit alone at meals.

"Where's Robb, Rickon?" Jon called up to the small boy- Rickon.

The boy bit his lip and fiddled with his hands before answering. "He rode out to the Twins less than a two days ago!" The last rays of sunlight were bleeding from the sky, turning it a dark blue. Lyra noticed Catelyn flinch.

Jon turned towards her with wide eyes. "Night is falling, they would likely be making camp." She could hear the underlying question in his words.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Jon breathed a sigh of contentment.

"We'll be back!" Lyra chose not to correct his words to his younger brother. She wouldn't be returning to his home. Once she had safely brought him to his King she would finish her journey to Seagard and sail to Essos. That was the plan.

Together they urged on their horses, riding quickly to the Twins. To Robb Stark.

To Seagard.

~o.O.o~

Morning light was breaking the horizon when they finally spotted the fabric tents shaking in the breeze. Smaller, two person tents were scattered around a larger oval one in a circular motif. Four dozen people at least milled between them, creating muddy paths. Jon headed down towards the center of the camp and she followed behind hesitantly. She wasn't used to willing waking into an encampment of soldiers. At least not with good intentions.

Lyra slipped from Thunders back on numb legs and under the scrutiny by dozens of eyes. Jon didn't wait for too long, taking a deep breath, he pushed the flap open and ducked inside. Lyra once again, followed. It was starting to become a pattern and Lyra wasn't used to hiding behind anyone. The inside was warm, heated by the many bodies arguing over a map.

Lyra glanced around. Her blue eyes landing on a cot covered in thick furs. It looked so comfortable. She felt herself almost drifting towards it before she caught herself. Suddenly the clatter in the room stopped and all eyes turned to her and Jon. Thankfully no one drew their swords, with how tired she was- both mentally and physically- she wasn't sure she could fight a puppy, let alone a room full of Northern wolves.

"Jon!" A man with a wide smile broke away from the crowd. Lyra assumed the man engulfing Jon in a bearhug was, in fact, the King in the North, Robb Stark. The King was taller than Snow with a more defined jaw. He had curly auburn hair like his mother and eyes the color of cobalt. Lyra had never seen eyes that blue. His fur wrap covered the majority of his body but Lyra could tell that he was well built.

She had to admit that Robb Stark was an aesthetically pleasing man. His face was symmetrical and Lyra thought his growing beard made him look rugged but in a handsome. Robb Stark looked every part the King. Even his posture was regal.

"Be careful, Robb, you may very well kill me before this war gets the chance." Jon choked out with a smile just as beaming as his brothers. Robb pulled away with astonishment clearly etched into his face. In that moment the sour taste Catelyn had left in her mouth vanished. Robb cared about his brother, despite the constant reminder his mother must have provided.

"My apologies," The Young Wolf said with an unnoble roll of his eyes. Lyra felt her legs jerk lightly from her fatigue. She really wished her brain would stop bringing up the bed she wouldn't be able to sleep in. "And who is this?"

Jon looks behind him to where his friend stood, deep purple under her eyes. She had stood guard more than he had, though he argued against it. The last day she had been soft spoken- something Lyra was not. "This is Lyra. She is the reason why I knew to come here and why I managed to ride s o quickly."

"In that case, you have my gratitude, my Lady Lyra. You will be welcomed here and in Winterfell." Robb held out his hand to her. She knew he meant to kiss it like a proper gentlemen would when meeting a Lady but the registered surprise on his face when she shook it was enough for Jon to sniffle a laugh.

"It's Lyra, no _Lady_ , Your Grace." She leaned forward to whisper his title, a quiet mock. From this close she could see the green flakes in his iris' and the heat from his palm on hers. She dropped it, turning to Jon. "Although it has been a pleasure being your guide thus far, Snow, I need to get going. Heavier ice and snow will make it more difficult to sail and it has been too long of a delay already."

"We have been riding with limited rest for weeks. You should rest before-" Lyra cuts him off with a dismissing wave of her hand.

"Let me ask you something?" Jon nods. "If you're wasting so much time and energy thinking of ways to keep me around, who is defending the North and your King?" She gestured Robb. Jon glared at her.

* * *

 **~Robb Stark~**

 **Cerwyn**

Robb had no idea who this strange woman was. She wore manly clothing and there were enough weapons strapped on her to arm a small village. She looked tired but dangerous nonetheless. Robb noticed the way she held herself. Like she was waiting for an attack. Untrusting as her frost colored eyes followed the departing Lords but when Jon reached out to her Lyra's face softened. He noticed the annoyed way Jon was looking back at her.

"How am I supposed to protect anything when I'm worried about you passing out from exhaustion and freezing to death?" Lyra pulled the mantle around her shoulders closer. Robb took note of her clothing. It was all rather unladylike, no embroidery or stitched art anywhere on her. It was all monotone colors. Black and dark greys. The only light about her were the glints of light from her knives.

"You won't let this go, will you?" She asked, her voice drained. Jon shook his head. "Alright, but only until you decide to turn back to Winterfell. I continue to Seagard."

Jon nodded understandingly. "Stay here while I find a tent." Lyra didn't get a chance to respond before Jon was rushing away. Leaving Robb and Lyra alone in the command tent.

Robb definitely thought she was pretty. Her dark hair had been chopped to the length of her shoulder blades and the strands were braided. "What did my brother mean when he said you were the reason he knew to come here?"

Lyra slowly moved around the room, running her fingers on the maps surface. She sat down and crossed her legs. "Your squire was heading South to King's Landing- I will let you make your own conclusion." The expected soft tone of words from her wornout face were replaced with biting remarks. It seemed her kindness was reserved for his brother.

"I see." Robb said gratefully.

* * *

 **~Lyra Storm~**

The two brothers were like two sides of the same coin, a light and dark. Where Jon had his brown eyes and almost pitch black curls, Robb had cornflower blue and the warmth of auburn in a messy mop on his head. If she hadn't known they were related by blood Lyra wouldn't have believed anything anyone said about them being siblings.

There was a moment of awkward silence before Robb began to step from one foot to the other. Lyra was amused by the unkingly action. He looked confined and nervous. "Where are you from, Lyra?" Lyra bit her lip when she heard the hiccup before he used her name. She realized that he had probably never used a woman's name without a title.

"I am not a person of importance, My Lord, I am not the type of company you would normally keep.". Robb opens his mouth and closes it a few times, feeling slightly guilty, Lyra sighs. "Apologies, Your Grace, I am not used to being in the presence of noblemen."

Lyra wasn't accustomed to speaking with Kings or House Lords. The people she usually spoke with were soldiers or lawbreakers, an ironic combination.

Robb rubbed the nape of his neck with fervor. "Don't concern yourself with trivial matters such as titles, I should thank you."

"Go on then." Lyra prompted amused.

Robb's eyes locked on hers. Cobalt on steel blue."Thank you for bringing my brother here. I know he can be quite stubborn."

She nodded in acceptance. "Surprisingly, I am accustomed to irrational men."

"Your husband?" The King in the North asked curiously.

"No, I am not married. My social status was never acceptable enough for an arrangement, which suits me perfectly honestly." Robb looked at her quizzically. "I'm a bastard from the Stormlands." Lyra explained further.

"I am sorry to hear that." The crease between his brows deepening.

She waved him away. "It gave me the opportunity to become what I am today so I suppose I cannot complain for my upbringing."

Robb sat across from her and tapped his fingers on the surface of the table. He watched the loose curls brush against her neck. "What you are?"

"A warrior." She said confidently. "I do not have to worry about tripping over long dresses, impressing arrogant men, or hiding my talent with a sword."

"How talented are you?"

Lyra leaned forward with a smile playing across her lips. "Pray we never meet in battle."

Robb tried to suppress his grin but couldn't help it. They looked at each other mischievously, Lyra could almost imagine he wasn't a King and they were two regular people in a tavern somewhere. Although she couldn't imagine the King wearing anything other than the Stark House sigil and fur cloak.

Jon came through the opening of his brother's space. "I found us a tent." Lyra could see the confusion building behind Robb's eyes but she was too tired to explain the concept of men and women being only friends.

"Thank the Seven," She sighed standing up. "You definitely need your beauty sleep."

She looked back at Robb before sliding outside. Jon followed shortly and together they headed to the tent he had managed to procure.

Seagard was close to the Twins, she reminded herself, it would be alright to travel with the Stark brothers for now. Just until they went their separate ways and Lyra could voyage across the ocean to Essos. Then everything would be the way it should have been before the letter from Robb Stark found its way to her.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I still don't own Game of Thrones. But if I did you could fucking bet that Robb would still be alive.**

 **Also, I know there's going to be at least one fuckstick that doesn't understand character development and reviews something like 'Jon would never think that' & 'why is Lyra such a bitch?'. So let me point out- at the beginning of a story characters will have flaws that need to be worked on. Example: Robb's lack of confidence in being King, Jon's inability to accept belonging in a family and being needed, Lyra's coldness.**

 **Anyways! I hope you liked this chapter (is this story even good?) and if you did make sure to follow and leave me a review! They make me happy and a happy writer means chapters.**

 **P.S. Shout out to everyone who gets the irony of Lyra's horse being named Thunder and her sword being named Lightning. Let me know if you found it as funny as I did so I don't feel like such a loser.**

 **Love, R!**


	3. Agreement at the Twins

**Chapter 3**

 **~Lyra Storm~**

 **Twins**

* * *

The towers were bland in both people and decoration. The only color shining through the dull grey of _everything_ was the deep red of wine. Something that was obviously the most important thing to Lord Walder Frey's dining hall. Lyra sipped from her own goblet and cringed away from the bitterness, you would think with how much their Lord drank they would at least have decent wine. Lyra sat at the back of the joyous hall, next to Jon, while Robb Stark was seated at the right hand of Lord Frey.

It was an unspoken tradition apparently to have a corner in the dining area just for the bastards of Lords. Glancing round Lyra was surprised that Frey didn't have a great deal of bastards himself. Judging by how he leered at the younger women milling around the hall she presumed that he didn't stay in one bedchamber.

Lyra sighed and continued pushing around the steamed vegetables around her plate. Every edible item on their table was charred or steamed beyond flavour. When she tried to pick a carrot up it turned to an unappealing mush. "I'm not used to this."

"Sitting in the back of the hall?" Jon replied into his drink. She could hear the hint of bitter understanding in his tone. He didn't seem like the type of person to hold a grudge and in the weeks that Lyra knew him it was clear how much he wanted to continue to be a good man.

Lyra looked at him through her lashes and pursed her lips. "No," Her friend looked up from his crossed arms. "Being in a Lord's house surrounded by armed men without the impending threat of life in prison or execution."

Jon slowly turned his head to fully look at her in curiosity. "What exactly did you do before you decided to take the midnight ride to the Wall?" Lyra grinning towards him but didn't answer immediately. Instead taking another unsatisfying drink.

Cringing at the taste she finally pushed away the goblet, "We all have our secrets."

For the upteenth time she wondered what the hell she was doing here. Surrounded by nobles and their soldiers, instead of on the sea sailing away from Westeros. On the ride to the Wall she had told herself that it was her shredded honor that kept her riding to Jon Snow. Then Lyra convinced herself that she was heading in the same directing as them so why wouldn't she travel with them. Now she wondered when she'd lost her survival instinct.

The alliance between Walder Frey and the Wolf King had been a swiffer negotiation than Lyra had first anticipated. Frey had certain _requests_ before signing the prepared document. One of the more colorful being solidity in their agreement, through marriage. If she were honest with herself, she was surprised Walder had waited as long as he had to bring up that certain Westeros tradition. Marrying your children off for wealth and power.

"You're right," Jon sighed in defeat. "Everyone is always hiding something."

Lyra jabbed his ribs goodbeartedly, trying to cheer his sullen face. "If you knew all my secrets I wouldn't be nearly as interesting of a friend to have around." Jon studied her as she picked at a loose string coming from her white sleeve. "Besides, the truth always comes out eventually. Right, Snow?"

In the weeks they had known each other they found a sort of comfort. A kindred spirit, an abandoned child that finally found solace. Jon had been lucky. His father had wanted to keep him and show him as much love as he could, his siblings treasured him and Robb wanted to formally give him the name of his House. Jon wouldn't be a Snow anymore, instead he would be a Stark. A wolf of the North.

Lyra hadn't been so lucky. She supposed her father had wanted her to some capacity, his family was not as welcome. She had been an accident- the unhappy result of too much mead and unrealistic hopes from her father. He was a good man, or so she had heard, Lyra only met him a few times as a child before she became fully and truly alone.

"You're wrong, I think you would be interesting even without all the secrets you keep." He smiled lightly but genuinely. It was rare for Jon, former brother of the Night's Watch, to show much emotion so when he did Lyra knew he meant it.

The feast continued in controlled chaos. Music filtered through the crowded hall and drunken bodies swayed as if preparing to dance. She watched, almost enthralled, as Roose Bolton bartered away his only child. Ramsay was born a bastard like her and Jon so she guessed Roose wasn't emotionally attached. Although Ramsay has recently been legitimized as a Bolton, Lyra suspected so he would be able to fulfill any marriage alliance. Like Ramsay was a Bolton, Jon would be a Stark soon. No more bastardly Snows in the North.

Just one Southern Storm, who would be on her way to Essos soon enough.

Lyra grew tired of pushing mushy vegetables around her plate, of drinking stale wine and hearing vulgar advances towards their serving girls. Whatever kind of people the King in the North surrounded himself with was none of her business, she knew that, and yet Lyra couldn't help but judge his allies. The Frey's were lifeless figures of grey, only exhibiting interest in drinking and chasing the skirts of much younger women.

 _We Stand Together_. What foolish words to trust upon a House of rotten men.

More than once had a man looked at her clothing in disdain. She wasn't dressed like a Lady, certainly wasn't acting like one. Dark, riding pants tucked into buttery soft boots that reached her knees. A white blouse tucked into her weapons belt, and the light steel breastplate protecting her chest. Her black cloak lay on the table, unnecessary for the moment, her shorts words weighing the fabric down to the wood.

No matter the insistence from Jon, she refused to unhook the long sword from her waist or consider leaving her weapons with Thunder. Whether he believed it or not, this was enemy territory. All the more proven to her by the tasteless feast. Some of the other, more prestigious, women eyed her when she first walked in besides Jon.

However they soon left her once they realized the unmarried King was sitting but a table away. She had to admit, the King in the North wasn't what she pictured from descriptions she'd heard in the South and what Jon told her on their journey.

Robb Stark looked regal at the head of the table, Grey Wind sat by his feet, head slumped over his master's feet as he protected him. Robb's dark red hair was cut short, curling up and away from his defined face. A pair of bluebell eyes gleamed in the candlelight around the hall. His beard was the same auburn shade, trimmed over his jaw. A glimpse of pearly and straight white teeth could be seen as he talked with the surrounding Lords. The Young Wolf had broad shoulders covered in a thick fur cloak, dual belts slashing over his chest to steady the fabric.

Lyra continued to trace the scape of his features with her eyes before a crash broke her out of her inquiry. A serving girl had fallen to her knees, along with a tray of empty goblets. With a fleeting glance, Lyra turned her attention back to Jon and tried to maintain a normal conversation with her friend.

 **~o.O.o~**

That night, after the Stark army returned to their camp, Lyra lay awake. The sleeping pack she had packed wasn't warm enough for the deep chill in the North. Although she had acquired heavier pelts on her way to the 700 ft wall, Lyra traded them for faster passage up to Castle Black. A choice she hadn't once regretted until this very moment. Family pleas be damned, her fingers and toes were about to snap off.

Toeing on her boots and pelisse, she scratched Thunders head as she walked further from her tent. Lyra went unnoticed by the neighboring soldiers and slipped into the nearest thicket of trees. Leaves crunched under her feet and a calm set over her. Being alone always seemed to clear the effects people or temperature had on her.

"Who's there?" A deep voice called to her from around a tree. Her cool, but nimble fingers curled around the hilt of her sword before she recognized the fiery curls.

"Your Grace," Robb visibly relaxed and leaned back against the bark of the tree, his long legs crossed at the ankled in front of him. Somehow the cold didn't bother him, but Lyra supposed that had a lot to do with growing up surrounded by frost and snow.

"You've been with us for months, and you brought my brother back to me, stop with the 'Your Grace'." He constantly reminded her but Lyra couldn't imagine a nobleman, let alone a _King_ , disregarding his title. So she continued to use it.

"Robb," Lyra said with a roll of her blue eyes, not expecting the lack of a smile. Not even the slightest tilt of his lips. "Are you okay?"

He didn't turn his head from the darkened outstretch of branches and shadows. "I'm alright, just worn out. I believe that's one of Walder Frey's perfected qualities, drinking and talking around negotiations."

She could hear the attempt to reassure her but Lyra wasn't fooled. She knew the mask he wore over his face. It was the same one she wore. "It's okay not to be strong all the time, your family is going through hell right now. It's okay to feel afraid."

Robb's head snapped to her, his eyes searching her face. For a moment Lyra thought she had said or done something to offend him. He continued to look for something before he slowly shook his head, watching her still. "No one would follow a king who's afraid."

Lyra sat against the tree in front of him, hugging her legs to her chest. Resting her head on her crossed arms, she tried to explain, "They don't follow you because they think you are invincible, they're choosing to stand with you because they believe in the kind of man that you are. A man who can be afraid and still fight for his family and his people."

Lyra felt a chill set in and an uncontrollable shiver raced up her back. Robb noticed but didn't comment as he undid the ties to his coat and draped it over her legs in the small space between them. The warmth seeped into her and she unconsciously pulled it closer.

Robb mirrored her position, speaking slow and deliberately. "We haven't fought a single battle and I already feel like I've lost, what if I freeze?"

"You can't freeze because your soldiers need you, your family needs you, and the North needs you. You, fully human and able to be afraid of losing the people you love." Lyra tried to imagine another King in his place. Sitting in the dirt, across from a bastard, sharing his fears and insecurities. They may have been traveling together but she was virtually a stranger.

"You say that like it's easy." He said quietly.

"Your life isn't supposed to be easy, you're a _King_. Men will die for you, they will raze castles to the ground in your name and it will eat away at your soul. Every life that's lost in this war- taken by you or Joffrey, will haunt you." She repeated, "You can't freeze."

"Lyra, an inspiration to a king." Lyra shifts away from his eyes, slightly uncomfortable by his intense stare. She felt like he could see directly in her head and the feeling unnerved her.

"I'm full of surprises." Lyra defended. They sat in silence for a while, enjoying the sound of life around them before she surrendered to her tired mind. "I should get some rest, I have a long trip ahead tomorrow. You should retire as well, Highness."

This time a smile cracker his serious expression. When she tried to hand back his cloak he simply shook his head again, "It gets colder here than what you're used to. Keep it until I can find something warmer for you."

Lyra doesn't remind him that she plans to leave for Seagard in the morning while he and Jon head back towards Winterfell. Where they would plan their war and she would sail to Meereen for her own war.

"Thank you," She said simply before disappearing back towards the campsite.

Inside her tent, Lyra burrowed deeper inside the musky scented fur. Tomorrow she would find a cloak and return Robb's, it wouldn't be right to leave with it. She didn't think about the oddity of tonight. From the feast with Walder Frey to the strange encounter with the King of the North in the forest, in the middle of the night. She closed her eyes tightly, a flash of depthless blue resounded in her head before she fell into a dreamless sleep.

The next morning she awoke to the nagging on her leg. An annoying pull at her ankle by a rough hand. Lyra's eyes cracked open before she slammed them shut to avoid the onslaught of bright sunlight. She grumbled as Jon laughed.

Getting out of bed, she pulled on her shoes and grabbed Robb's mantle. Lyra didn't see Jon's eyes shift in confusion as he spotted the Stark House emblem on one of the leather straps as she secured it over her regular black one. She would return it soon but until then she was determined to enjoy the warmth it provided.

Ghost sat sentinel outside, standing proudly next to Thunder. Her mare's creamy color contrasting with Ghost's snowy white. Ghost sniffed the air around her and she noticed the curious looks some of the soldiers threw her way. Robb's cloak drawing their attention. Lyra wasn't the type of person to be easily embarrassed but, standing there, under their scrutiny was jarring. She held the fabric closer.

"Are you leaving today?" He asked as they walked towards the command tent.

Lyra nodded, chewing her lip, "I have to or I might never get to Essos in time."

"In time for what?" Jon asked, when she made no move to answer he turned his face away in understanding. "Your secrets. We've known each other for almost a year now, running around the North. Do you not trust me?"

"I do," Lyra replied honesty. "I think more than anyone, but knowing where I'm going and why can put you in danger. Your family, too. I swear to you, we will see each other again and when we do, I will tell you everything."

They passed a busy party of soldiers as they packed up the cooking supplies from their breakfast. Lyra saw the tents fall and men pack their belongings in their knapsacks. They stopped in front of Robb as he directed a small group in preparing for their trip back to Winterfell.

Jon leaned in to whisper, "I will hold you to that promise."

Lyra knew it was time to say goodbye to them. She knew there was a very high chance that she wouldn't survive in Essos, but she hoped she would see them both again. Hopefully not on a spike in front of the gates of Geoffrey's palace.

"Try not to get murdered without me here to protect you, Snow." She gracefully swung onto Thunder's saddle, running her fingers through the coarse hair of her maim to calm her from the sudden weight. She unclasped the cloak from her chest and tossed it in a heap towards its owner. "Good luck with your war, Robb Stark."

"As with yours, Lyra Storm." Her name rolled off his tongue with grace and she wondered what it would be like to hear her real name said with the same elegance. There wasn't a finality in his voice, not like someone who was saying goodbye.

With a final look towards the wolves, she gave them a reassuring smile and urged Thunder forward. The cold bit at her face as she picked up speed, quickly she pulled her hood over her head. The rolling hills were covered in a thin sheet of snow, tree branches reaching up as if to touch the gray sky.

A fine mist drifted on the breeze, the rushing sound of an icy river flowed between the valleys. Lyra continued towards Seagard, she knew it would be easier to sail to Braavos from White Harbor, from there she could travel the Dothraki Desert and finally reach the Khyzai Pass overlooking Meereen. But the only ship she could find that was willing to take her to Essos from the North was ported in Seagard. She had to change her plans, now she would dock in Quarth, travel the Red Waste and make it in time. It was a shorter trip but more dangerous.

It was quiet, the wind blowing harshly against her. She didn't know how long she rode but the further away she became from the Stark army, the less certain she felt. She had gotten attached to the pair of them and now she was nervous. Robb was King in the North and Jon was his newest advisor and his brother. They had enemies in every part of Westeros now, people who wanted them dead. Lyra could feel her anxiety growing, she wouldn't be able to sail to Essos with the constant fear that they were dead and the North belonged to the Lannisters.

She could see the raised buildings of the port town of Seagard. It felt strange to arrive in such a short time compared to the long rides the North caused. Then again things weren't as close in the great expanse of the North as they were back in the Stormlands.

The high stone towers of the castle stood stark against the light sky. Lyra hopped down from Thunder's back, pulling the reins towards the port. She walked passed busy vendors selling freshly wrapped food. The pungent scent of fish caused the scrunch of her nose.

She could see the ship preparing to leave on the pier, the main mast and foremast were hoisted. People passed around her completely unaware of her inner turmoil. Voices full of excitement floated around her from every direction, but Lyra was unable to focus on what they were saying. The closer her feet mindlessly carried her to the deck, the more Lyra realized she _had_ bonded with them and she _would_ be anxious if she left not knowing if they made it to Winterfell in one piece.

"I heard they left this morning, over two hundred, heading up the Neck." Lyra head an elderly fisherman say between puffs of his pipe.

Not being able to help herself, Lyra stirred Thunder to a stop in front of the man's stall. "I'm sorry sir, but who are you talking about?"

He arched a thick brow as he stared at her, scratching his beard he gruffly answered. "Men from House Stokeworth marched up toward Moat Cailin early this morning."

"I thought House Stokeworth was in the Crownlands," Lyra's heart beating harshly against her ribcage. If they had left that morning they had probably seen their camp that night. If they hadn't attacked then it meant they were waiting for something. Probably to make sure that Robb was there before attacking the party.

"Aye, I reckon they're there already," Not thinking about her actions, Lyra waved him away and swung her body over Thunder, digging her heels into her side, the mare rushed down the streets. Several people yelled after her for almost knocking them over.

Lyra rode past the town border, not looking back at the ship as it set sail to Essos.

* * *

 **~Robb Stark~**

 **On the Road to Winterfell**

He rode next to his brother, a comforting silence surrounding them, the only sounds Robb could hear was the light fall of rain and the hooves of their horses. Winterfell was still at least a day or two away, and all Robb wanted to do was lay in his bed and drown in the warmth of the furs and hearth. He knew he couldn't. They were in the middle of a war, half of his family was missing and he still responsibilities as King.

"Do you think she's left Seagard yet?" Robb nodded quietly, hoping Lyra had safely made it onboard a ship to Essos. "She's certainly spirited."

Robb thinks about her joking during meals, her unladylike clothes and short hair, the numerous weapons strapped to her lithe body, her unusual blue-violet eyes. Lyra was certainly an intriguing person. Robb was never used to women who could use a sword as well as him or who wore battle armor. From what Sansa would talk about, women from the South wore huge frilly and colorful dresses. He couldn't picture Lyra wearing a dress.

Robb cleared his throat, refusing to look at Jon's inquiring face. "That she is. We're close to Greywater Watch, we should stop to rest the horses."

The men stopped their tireless trek, dropping to the muddied ground and talking amongst themselves. Robb and Jon stayed on top of their horses, watching the horizon ahead of them. The swirling shades of orange and purple faded into the setting sun, night began to fall, darkening the fields around them.

A commotion of drew his attention from the view. A lone rider cald in dark clothing was heading straight to him, Grey Wind and Ghost knelt low on the ground, preparing to tackle the figure if it posed a threat. Grabbing their swords his men watched the trees. Men in Stokeworth green ran out from between the trunks, dozens of them charged towards them.

"It's an ambush!" The young Lord Glover shouted over the confusion.

Metal clashed as the two forces met in a heated draw. Grey Wind snapped his teeth towards anyone who came too close to Robb. Before he had a chance to fully draw his sword from its sheath, the air was knocked out of him. The dark figure threw its body against his, throwing them off the horse.

He felt cloved fingers dig into his hair, protecting his head from the fall. Unconsciously his arms curled around the body and Robb heard the terrible snap of the bones in her hand as they made impact with the ground. His eyes focus on the face under the hood, a flushed and worried face stares back at him. Her ink black hair falling over her forehead and into her violet eyes. Lyra's chest heaving, pressing against his.

She flinched away, tears burning in her eyes. Robb turned his eyes towards her bloodied arm. An arrow had gone all the way through the flesh, the sharp steel sticking out of her coat. The dark blood dripping down quickly covered his chest.

Grey Wind's growl snapped Lyra out of her pain, pushing herself away from the King, she pointed her sword at one of the men. She could bind her wounds later.

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own GoT but I really wish I did. I do own Lyra though.**

 **Alright I know it's been awhile, you don't need to tell me. I have shit going on, I have other stories to procrastinate on. Also, Richard Madden is literally one of the cutest and sweetest human being I have ever seen, _ever_.**

 **Anyways, Happy holidays! Review and Follow so you know when I get my head out of my ass and update.**


	4. Apologize

**Hello!**

 **I'm sorry to post an authors note as a chapter and to have one posted at all, however I felt you all should know... As of January 11th, 2018** **I am putting all of my stories for up to six months of hiatus.**

 **During that time I'm writing a complete story, called _Mend_. The reason I decided to do this is because I've been feeling very disconnected with my Mortal Instruments stories as of late and writing them has felt more like a chore and less like the writing passion I'm used to. While my other fandom stories are not connected to that drop of enthusiasm, they are all in the beginning stages.**

 **Not only that, but with Seeing Red, I've realized that I work faster and _better_ when focusing on a single story. I'm allowing myself _up to_ six months to finish _Mend_. It will have 24ish chapters and around 100,000 words. It's a Harry Potter story so if you're interested- keep an eye out. Truth is, I'll probably finish sooner than planned and be back to these.**

 **I'm very sorry, but I have to follow my muse. I also believe that taking a break and focusing on one story would let me destress and be back with more energy and a bigger work ethic.**

 **All of my stories will be complete. One at a time.**


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